Lying, Faking, Smuggling and Other Things I'm Not Good At
by Still Waiting for Aliens
Summary: "Captain" Inestra Valis has only half the skills she needs to be a good smuggler. The other half, the interacting with people half, fate has decided to make her learn on the fly, while she makes up a new persona to cover who she really is. A first-person, present-tense retelling of Ord Mantell, starring my f!Smuggler, Inestra.
1. In Which I Forget to Lock the Door

_Elaine's Shadow _is nearly silent, as she recently had been of late. The clicks and rumbles of the engine echo off the panels of her corridors. At one point, those panels had been polished, smooth and clear and spotless. Years of dragging cargo through her corridors, children playing tag and keep-away, and a handful of stray blaster bolts had scratched and scuffed the surfaces, giving a dull appearance that in some spots seems to absorb so much light that they opened to space itself. Here and there, a dent from a cargo crate getting dropped appeared. Actually, that one odd-shaped, shallow dent is from when one of the children, by then a young woman, had used the empty ship for some late-night fun that was a little rougher than the thin metal plate protecting the underlying circuitry could take. The next run had started with all three teenage children receiving a long lecture about proper care of the ship. Sha'li had rolled her eyes but apologized, frustrated that her uncle and her father placed so much value in the "hunk of junk".

Sha'li had never been cut out for this sort of life. She had embraced every port, every dock as a slave embraces freedom. She had been sixteen when she had disappeared into a port and never returned. Her father, Uncle Ze'har, had been expecting her to run off, but it still tore his and Aunt Keki's hearts to pieces. She never was the same after that.

For the next two years, it had been life as normal for those still on the ship. Pick up a cargo, run it to its destination, get paid, maintain the ship, buy basic supplies and if there was any left over, buy a bottle of Correlian rum and celebrate. Then, Uncle Ze'har caught Aunt Keki with another man. He was right furious. When she said that she wasn't the same woman anymore after her daughter ran off and she didn't love him any more, he just sat down on the big couch in the lounge and cried and drank and cried some more. Aunt Keki left two days later. She tried to keep in touch for a while, but it was too hard on him and she stopped sending messages at all.

Then, everything went back to being blessedly normal for another four years, until that big deal. The cargo was mysterious, unmarked, and specific orders kept it from being touched by any other than the recipient. Uncle Ze and his brother, who played the part of Cap'n Valis for this round, left in the morning, and that evening two Imperial officers came by to tell the two remaining crew that they had been killed and not to ask any questions, and to surrender themselves and their vessel. Like that was going to happen.

Shaken, unsure, and without any payment, _Elaine's Shadow _left and touched down at the nearest port. Jol searched and searched for a contract. Eventually, he got the ship a cargo of weapons and ammunition for the a faction on Ord Mantell. It was a good contract, with a small portion of the money paid up front. Before the shipment could be strapped down in the cargo hold, Jol said, "I can't do this anymore, Ines. I can't go on without Dad and Uncle Berk. Go to Ord Mantell and pick yourself up some new crew."

He had turned and marched down the ramp, leaving me alone in the only home I had ever known in all my twenty years. I tried to call after my cousin, but he never responded.

That day, I became Cap'n Valis of _Elaine's Shadow_. I'm a far cry from the man who came before me. Who bounced me on his knee and taught me to shoot, to pilot, to fix an engine. I'm an even farther cry from the man before him.

And if I can't find a crew soon, I'll be the last Valis to captain _Elaine's Shadow_.

* * *

Correction: if I can't navigate this near-minefield of ships shooting at me, I'll be the last Valis to captain _Elaine's Shadow._ She won't be in existence to captain, in fact.

I spin the ship in a tight spiral, evading two fighters fast closing. This is not as easy as Jol and I had been led to believe. I have been flying the ship though for a long time; my father had let me steer the course since I was old enough to reach the controls. It's a gift I have, and I eventually became the secondary pilot, thanks to quick reflexes and the fact that I could pull the ship into almost any size docking bay without jostling her crew or cargo.

This situation, though, with fighters closing in on both sides, is more complicated than landing in a docking bay. More instinct than reflex, guessing where the fighters would appear and what patterns they're flying. I've only ever been in this situation once, not counting the holo-sims, and at the time, I was co-pilot, my father's instincts overriding any mistake I made.

I pray that I evade any shots and make it to the surface alive.

Lady Luck must have pitied me for once, and I bring the _Shadow_ onto the pad in the clearing. This particular landing will never be in my book of successes, I can already tell. Too much grind and a few sparks. I almost wonder if Uncle Ze could have done better, but I kill the thought. I take a deep breath as I start running shut down procedures and preparing to disembark. I'm not my father nor my uncle; I have never borne the title of "Captain" for a mission. Jol and I trailed along, helping, scouting, or spying, but we never were the front of a deal. It dawns on me that I don't know what I'm doing at all. More importantly, it dawns on me that I'll be the one stepping off that ramp, and the one doing all the talking. I'm _the _captain, but I'm hardly the kind of personality that is commonly associated with smuggling. I'm going to have to be someone else for a few minutes, maybe a few hours.

My jacket sits on a hook next to the airlock, and one of Uncle Ze's spares is next to it. My hand goes towards Uncle Ze's when I realize that I can't bring a comfort out there. My own jacket slides over my shoulders as I cycle the airlock, open the hatch and watch as the boarding ramp slides down it's hydraulic lifts. I'm off the ship before the clank of metal hitting duracrete echoes around the hangar.

"You must be Captain Valis," says the man in the mechanic's jumpsuit with the tattoo gracing the right side of face. It looks like a vine of thorns, and makes me wonder why someone would choose to have a tattoo on their face, especially of something most people associate with pain and unpleasantness.

"Skavak, I assume," I respond. I'm pretty sure that was the name of the contact that Jol gave me.

"No offense meant, but I expected someone...older."

_Fake it 'til I make it. What would "Captain Valis" say? _"No offense meant, but I expected someone more experienced," I dish back. Probably not what previous captains would have said, but it's a start for my new persona. I make a mental note to finish working out all the details in the new character. I can't go around contradicting myself.

"Oh, I have experience." He smirks. "We really do need those weapons. Thanks for running them in."

"You're welcome. Now, let's talk payment." Maybe Pa and Uncle would have handled it differently, but I'm in charge now, and credits are something I'm in sore need of. I barely had enough to to fuel the _Shadow_ for this run, make sure she was in good repair, and stock a few provisions for myself, and that was before I landed.

"Exactly as the contract said, you'll get paid once the goods are off your ship."

"I wasn't told just how intense this blockade is." I gesture skyward. "Getting those goods here is gonna cost a little extra." Haggling is part of this aspect of smuggling, right? Stars, what am I doing out here? I hope my face doesn't reveal any of my tumultuous emotional interior.

Skavak smirks again. "I'm sure we can work something out, Captain. Still, can't believe you made it through that Separatist shooting gallery."

"It's hard, being as great a pilot as I am," I say with a wink. "Everyone is always in disbelief of my prowess. What are these Separatists anyway?" Something tells me that they're not good news, especially in my, shall we say, precarious, situation.

"They want to break away from the Republic," he replies, his back towards me as he types something into a console. "And judging from all the explosions, they're serious about the idea."

As if in answer to his statement, the floor beneath us shakes perceptibly.

"Sounds like they're close," I say.

"And getting closer. As soon as those blasters are off your ship, I'd haul jets."

There's the sound of hurried bootsteps on the durasteel and -crete floor behind us. "Skavak! We've got a big problem."

I turn, and see that the owner of both footsteps and voice belong to a man of about twenty or so galactic-standard years, roughly my age. He's probably the first human I've ever seen sporting dreadlocks and looks to be packing enough weaponry to supply a small outpost. He's also got more scars than anyone but Uncle Ze had or has, at least to my knowledge. What happens on this out-of-the-way planet that has men decorated with scars or odd tattoos?

The man, Corso Riggs, explains that the local air defense cannons have been hijacked with some sort of remote device array. And while I'm sure that this affects the locals strongly (he says something about a downed Republic Transport), I have one thought: _Just what I don't need. Can't stay, can't leave, can't get a crew._ At least learning to shoot with Pa is going to come in handy, since I'll be taking out that array myself. I might even charge a little extra for my "good deed".

* * *

Normally, I'd put forth a little effort towards slicing the console and destroying the program, since I developed a little skill as a slicer, but after a few failed attempts and the knowledge that time is at a premium, I resort to more, shall we say, forceful methods. A blaster shot works just as well as slicing, after all, and in some ways, it works better. Slicing might be detected, slicing might trigger alarms, slicing might just get overwritten on the next datasweep program; a blaster ensures that the program is killed.

Just as the last of the sparks and arching voltage die down, the comm at my belt rings.

"Captain, we've got trouble at the hangar." It's Riggs, I'm somewhat surprised to find.

"What kinda trouble?"

"The kind of trouble that might put your ship in danger."

"She's sturdy, shouldn't be a problem." It's not exactly fake bravado, I've see her go through worse than a few stray blaster charges, but the comment is just as much to calm me as to answer him. This is my first job as captain, I have no one to catch me if I screw up, I have no backup for a fight, and I'm nervous as all get out. I make a quick glance around just to ensure no one is hiding or sneaking up on me while I'm distracted.

"Separatists are busting into the hangar, Captain. Just come give us a hand?"

"Will do." Separatists would make leaving more difficult.

"Skavak? Will you give me a hand with this doo-"

The comm cuts a little too quickly for my comfort, so I sprint back to the hangar. It holds a few lightly armed men, nothing I can't manage with my handy pistol. I expect to hear the additional fire of Skavak and Corso, but there's nothing. My heart speeds up a little in reaction to the emptiness.

The enemy falls quickly, and the _Shadow_ is still situated neatly, but the hair on the back of my neck is still standing on end. I hear a groan and look around to see Riggs, seemingly waking up from unconsciousness.

"Feels like a gundark used my skull as a drum," he says. "Thanks for saving my hide, Captain. Thought I was done for."

I reach out to help him up, and he reaches his feet just in time to hear the _Shadow'_s engines starting.

I can't spin around or run quickly enough to do more than watch as she floats away. "No! No, no, no, no!" I shout. I collapse to my knees. What did I forget to do to lock her down? I ran all the shutdown procedures, didn't I? There was something I must have missed. There must have been.

Corso is saying something about Separatists and Skavak and a blaster, but I don't actually register what he says. I'm too focused on the receding silhouette of my ship as she fades away into the upper atmosphere.

My home is now lost to sight, moving towards Force only knows where. Every memory I have is on that ship, every last bit of my mom and Uncle and Pa and my cousins. And I'm not on it. I need that ship back, not because it's my livelihood, but because Uncle and Pa never would have made this mistake and I've failed them. I need it back because Skavak stole my family. I can feel the anger (and tears) rising in me. "He can't get away with this!"

"He won't."

I don't expect the ensuing holocall to do anything of much value, and unsurprisingly it doesn't. Skavak insults both of us, raises my anger some more and then cuts the channel in a gesture of finality. My emotions keep rolling, intense and powerful, filling my vision with a hazy filter.

"Skavak stole my best blaster, but I guess it's not as bad as losing a starship. I feel for you, Captain."

_You don't understand, that wasn't just my ship, it was my home and my family and everything I cared about!_ The thought is there, along with the impulse to get in Rigg's face and yell at him. I squelch it down, realizing that he's been had as I have, and more importantly, I'll get nowhere if I reveal exactly who I am to anyone.

"Listen," he continues, "Skavak and I were working for a guy named Viidu. When he finds out Skavak's a Separatist, he'll want revenge just like you. Do yourself a favor and go talk to him in Fort Garnik. I guarantee he'll help you get your ship back."

"Why would I go to a military base to get back a stolen ship full of illegal goods?" There's no emotional control in my voice and even I can hear it clearly.

Somehow, Corso is as calm as I am furious. "Don't worry. The Republic Army might run the fort, but they let the boss do as he pleases. He keeps their supply lines open."

I arch any eyebrow. "That's the arrangement that lets him stay? He smuggles in goods for the Republic?"

"Viidu's a smart guy with connections everywhere," he continues. "If anybody can find your ship, it's him. I hafta lock down this hangar, but I'll send Viidu a holo and tell him what's up. Fort Garnik isn't far from here. I'll see you and Viidu there soon, Captain."

Some form of sense briefly infiltrates my fury. "Riggs, I don't even know which way to go from here. How 'bout I help you lock up and you guide me there?"

"Just go out the door and follow the path south."

"Which way's south?"

He gestures. "That way. Get going."

I pivot on my heel and walk out.

Avilatan Island is warm, but the breeze blowing in keeps the sun from being too unbearable and brings in the smell of salty air. Vegetation isn't exactly sparse, but it appears to have a tendency to go for "low and bushy" rather than "tall and leafy", so the shade is minimal, but the hike up to the fort gives me time to clear my head. The raw fury and anger in me mellow a bit, and my thoughts become less red. They turn a blackened-blue shade tinged with revenge before cooling further as I remember who I'm supposed to be. However, I've learned my lesson and I've learned it the hard way: don't trust anyone. Riggs seems alright, though; there's no way he's in cahoots with Skavak. We're two seeds in a pod in that regard. Besides, I don't have a contact network on this world to help me; my only choice is to believe that he's being honest about Viidu.

At some point or another, I realize that the sun is now behind me rather than to my left. I've switched directions and have started heading west. _Blast you, horrid sense of direction, I'm gonna be late._

* * *

**A/N: **Somehow, chapter 1 wound up replaced with chapter 2, so there were two chapter 2s.

My apologies to anyone who tried to read this before. :(


	2. I Don't Like Wet Hair

**A/N: **There's a tiny little reference to one of my favorite sci-fi shows in this chapter. If anyone finds it/figures it out, feel free to message me.

* * *

Viidu, thankfully, doesn't make any comments about my timing, or the clearly new blaster burn on my jacket (_thank you, Separatists that watch the path_), and turns out to be my kinda guy. A well-stocked liquor cabinet and an appreciation of good food and drink are two of my best social qualities. Well, they may be my only social qualities. Plus, he has a collection of fine art. I've smuggled a few works before, so I know a little about it and I like looking at some pieces. Pity that he's involved in my mess of a job. The arrangement he's made for getting me past the blockade around Talloran is not really my style, Pa and Uncle Ze always taught us that surgical precision and barely leaving a trail were better than a pile of bodies, but I'll do what I have to do.

Reki on the other hand, is the kind of man the galaxy could use less of. Exploitation of life, human or alien, was a line Pa, Uncle Ze and their father before them refused to cross, and a healthy respect was deeply ingrained in my upbringing. We never smuggled slaves or paraphernalia. That the one woman with the dark hair reminded me vaguely of Sha'li made it all the harder to just turn and leave after handing over the supplies. _I hope you choke on a food cube, scum_, I curse as he pulls the box from my hand.

At least the trip to Talloran proves useful in other ways, finding stolen medicine for refugees (who had stolen it in the first place), uncovering a damn Imperial spy (who can't be behind bars fast enough), and, somehow, finding myself destroying a Separatist communication tapping array. It's good for a few more credits, even if I don't care much for either side of this civil war.

A woman greets me when I reenter Renia Frieght. Her skin is unblemished, her dark hair is swept back into a clip, and her figure is generously curved. In comparison, I feel like an overgrown child: too tall, too skinny, too freckled. "You must be the freighter captain Viidu's expecting. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. I'm Syreena."

Something about her instantly rubs me the wrong way, something suspicious in the lay of her eyes and brow, something else in the play of her voice. Or maybe I'm being overly reactive to everything in the wake of the theft. "Pleasure to meet you," I manage neutrally.

"Likewise. My father flew tramp freighters, but I never developed a taste for space travel, myself. Too dangerous. I heard about what happened with Skavak. Can't say I'm surprised. I told Viidu not to trust that scoundrel. Viidu's putting on a brave face for me, but I can tell he's terrified. Is it bad? Should I be worried?"

The advice that I learned when I was knee-high to a nerf comes to mind. "Ines, kiddo, you've got to trust your gut." I lifted up my shirt, pointed to my belly button, and asked, "Gut?" Uncle Ze laughed. "No, your instincts, your feelings, your hunches." After that, anytime someone had said "trust your gut" on the ship, someone would point to me and ask me how my stomach felt.

So that's what I tell Syreena. The advice, not my story. I remind myself to take that advice more seriously and to get a better feel for these people I'm working with.

"Good advice," she ventures, "thank you, Captain. Sorry for keeping you from your appointment. Viidu's waiting in his office. I know he's eager to speak with you."

"I should go."

"Farewell, Captain." The words sound laced with something, but I can't figure out what.

When I reach the offices upstairs, I can smell the food through the open door. My stomach rumbles in anticipation; it's well past lunch time and I'm famished.

"Back already, Captain? Help me and Corso finish this Roba steak. Don't let this fine cut of meat go waste," Viidu says in lieu of normal greeting.

"Don't mind if I do," I reply, carving off a slice and sinking into a chair. "Got anything good to wash it down with?"

"Corellian red, fine vintage, very sweet."

"It's a little to early for wine," I say, though what I really mean is that I need to keep a clear head. "Something local?"

"Boss, quit acting like that's your last meal. Rogun the Butcher isn't gonna kill you," Riggs butts in.

"I won't blow this—trust me." A bit ironic, since I don't trust anyone very much at the moment.

"Until I've recovered those stolen blasters, I'll eat and drink like there is no tomorrow. Here, Captain, try this."

The proffered drink is dark red and almost impossibly sweet, but in a good, tangy-tart way. "What is it?" I ask

"The locals call it 'Red Paradise', it's made from dried local flowers and a couple of spices, steeped in cold water overnight."

"Refreshing."

Pa and Uncle Ze used to argue with Aunt Keki (and Mom, when she was still alive) as to whether or not mixing business and food led to indigestion. It was a pointless argument, really, but Viidu clearly would side with the men on this one. The three of us discuss getting onto Mannett Point and the plan for getting the computer files. Riggs offers to come with me, help I'd be glad to have, since swimming is not my strong point, but his boss has other plans for him.

I'm sliding my jacket back on when Viidu comes up to me. "Captain, I hope you'll understand why I'm keeping Corso here. Last thing I need is him turning 'one man army' out there. Kid will just get himself killed for nothing." I raise an eyebrow. "Separatists wiped out his family a couple of years ago. Corso took it personal."

My throat tightens convulsively. _Two seeds in a pod, indeed_. My voice takes on an edge, "I don't blame him for wanting revenge."

"Mixing personal grudges and business is like dropping a thermal detonator into a fuel dump. Everything burns and nothing feels right ever again." From the tone of Viidu's voice, I can't tell if he's giving me advice or talking about Corso. I glance over at him, and his expression is unreadable. I'm about to ask him about it, but Syreena interrupts with news of a holo from Rogun. This time, the panic is clear in Viidu's face.

I'm out the door in microseconds.

* * *

For some reason, every person with a possible request seems to read "civilian" as "do-gooder", which I am not, by nature. I don't go out of my way to help people, but when faced with decisions, all those lessons I was taught growing up kick in. Still, credits are credits, until I hear the stories of some of these folks, and I can't accept rewards. Every family torn apart becomes my family, every broken mother or father is my Uncle or Aunt, and credits cease to matter. I even wind up handing some creds to a kid trying to escape what can only be described as enslavement.

Yep, give me the opportunity, and I'm a regular bleeding heart, especially when a situation involves children. More importantly, the busier I stay, the less time I have to think about my family, my old life, or my ship.

The downside is that every extra task I take on adds to the time it takes for me to complete my to-do list. Searching for missing sons and holodiscs and doctors will probably double the time it takes for me to get back to Viidu in Fort Garnik. I'm not sure if the extra credits and the warm feeling are worth it when my ship, my life, and my home are in jeopardy.

Once I actually get into Reki's house and decipher the schematics, the sun is little more than a pink wash in the sky. My stomach rumbles again and I reach in a jacket pocket for a protein bar. I search Reki's kitchen (well, whatever passes as a kitchen) for a glass, wash it off, and swallow a few sips of water. I'm exhausted, so I figure I'll sneak in a quick nap before infiltrating the base after dark has fallen. As the majority of the house looks unwashed and filthy, the floor will have to do.

I wake up an hour later, my chrono beeping, refreshed enough to keep moving. Dark provides a nice cover for me as I sneak down the path to the base. The back door is relatively unguarded and almost no one is inside. I start the download of the Separatist personnel roster and some other files that look like databases and schedules. Hopefully, one of them has Skavak's info.

"Come on, Foursen, say it just like I taught you."

"The Republic lackeys will drown in lakes of fire and blood, master. Death to all who oppose the people's will, master."

_Hurry up, will ya, data? _The telltale clack of boots is getting closer.

"Hey there. We've had some trouble with the power relays. I need to check on the computer core. You mind?"

The droid that accompanies the booted male manages to both save my skin and put it at risk. "Master, I detect the presence of several non-functioning humans. Specifically, the bodies over there. Setting alert status red."

"By the stars! Republic troops have invaded our base!" Acting is not one of my talents, but "Boots" and his droid buy it.

"Oh, no! Foursen, activate combat protocols! We've got to warn the others!"

"Master, my sensors detect no evidence of hostile forces."

"But that doesn't make sense..."

"When was the last time you calibrated that droids sensors?" I ask.

"Not recently enough to take any chances. We need to put the base on alert and rally the men. Good day, Comrade! Come on, Foursen."

_Comrade?_ I resist the urge to giggle. The word is just so odd. Sneaking back out is as easy as sneaking in, and within a few minutes I find myself splashing my way back to the mainland. The water rinses away the dust and blood on my exposed skin, but it also soaks through my clothes and the wind blowing is chilly. I'm not familiar with the threat posed by local fauna, so I elect to take a taxi speeder back to the base. The wind from the high velocity chills me more, and by the time I reach Rendia Freight, I'm straight up shivering.

The voices from inside make me pause outside the doorway into the warehouse proper.

"You really don't have to work so late, sweets, there's a nice, warm spot back in my bunk."

"Leave me alone, Bracco! If Viidu knew about this, he'd-"

I'd barely come to the chin of the Zabrak, so he absolutely towers over the petite Syreena. "Viidu?" he laughs. " You're trying to tell me you actually care about that blob? He can't even protect himself. It's only a matter time before Rogun the Butcher punches your fat meal ticket for good. You'd better start thinking about the future, girl." He raises his hand and runs it along Syreena's face. "When Viidu's gone, you'll need new friends."

I'm leaning on the door frame, hair tie around my wrist, vigorously shaking my hair out in an attempt to get it to dry a bit when he delivers that last line. "She's got new friends," I lie. " She's got me, and besides, Rogun's got his eye on her. Think of his reaction when he discovers you messed up his favorite."

"Th-That's right, Bracco. You don't want to get on Rogun's bad side. I'm sure your life would be very unpleasant."

"He's already scoping out his future trophies, huh? Just proves Viidu ain't long for this world." He turns and makes to leave. "Let's go, guys."

I shake my head again to rid my neck of the damp touch of my hair. "Men..."

"Thanks for stepping in, Captain. I was so frighted." She hardly looks it though.

"With guys like that, there's no telling what they'd do. At least they were gullible enough to buy it. I wasn't looking forward to a brawl."

"Bluff? It's closer to the truth than I'd like to admit." She sighs. "What Bracco said was true, though. Rogun will kill Viidu if those blasters don't turn up."

"Rogun won't kill anyone, Syreena. Those blasters are as good as being back here." I smile. Again, I'm reassuring myself as much as the person I'm talking to.

"I hope whatever course of action you're pursuing pays off, Captain. More lives than your own depend on it."

I sneeze. The chilly damp of my jacket is getting to me. "Don't worry about it, you'll be alright. Now, I've gotta to see your boss before I catch a cold." I sprint off towards Viidu's office and rub at my arms, hoping the friction warms me a little.

Viidu and Corso are waiting for me in the conference room-slash-office. Corso's pacing and Viidu's enjoying what looks to be a late-night snack while fidgeting with a datapad.

"Captain!" Corso says as a greeting.

"Hey-ya, Riggs." When he smiles, just a tiny corner of the world straightens out and comes back into balance. Once I get the _Shadow _back, maybe I can convince him to come with me. I could use a crew member or two to help out, especially ones with contacts and their own weaponry, and if even a corner of my world is fixed, he'd be worth it.

"Finally! I thought you'd never get back," Viidu exclaims. "Tell me you got those separatist files!"

I slide the datapad across the table. "Yeah, I got 'em. And I had some fun while I was out." I brush a lock of damp hair behind my ear again.

"I hate missing all the fun," Riggs pouts. "Next time, can I join?"

"You did good, Captain. Corso found us a terrific little slicer kit, so we're ready to decrypt that data. We'll know where to find Skavak soon."

"I can help with the slic—Achoo!" I sneeze loudly.

"Jeez, Captain, you're shivering," Corso says, noticing my appearance for the first time. "Let us handle the slicing."

"You sure?" I cross my arms over my chest to try to stop the tiny tremors.

"We're sure," says Viidu. "Corso, why don't you find Captain Valis some dry clothes and a place to spend the night."

"Sure thing, boss."

"And Captain, I have a job to talk to you about in the morning."

"Couldn't we just talk now?" It's not as if I'm not alert or I have that much patience.

"You need to warm up and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Riggs rests a warm hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, Captain. Let's find you something dry and a spot to bunk down." I follow him downstairs to a set of lockers. "We all keep some spare clothes in these lockers, just in case. Hey, Syreena, you still around?" He calls, and her head pops up over a nearby shipping crate. "Can you help me find something for the Captain to wear?"

Syreena laughs. "If anything of mine fits her, I'll be surprised." She sidles up to us and palms her locker open. "Let's see...how about this?" She holds out a pair of leggings, a belt and a shirt. I hold them against my frame and laugh almost immediately. Everything is too short. The leggings reach the middle of my shins; the shirt would barely cover my stomach. Syreena shrugs. "I told you it'll all be too small. The Captain's tall." She uses her hand to indicate my height.

Riggs fumbles for a minute with another locker. "One of the old workers left some of her stuff here. It might do." The pants inside are wide for me, but fit well enough in the length. There's no shirts though.

"It's ok. I'll just leave my undershirt on."

"You'll catch a cold in that wet stuff," Riggs says, before opening another locker and tossing a simple t-shirt at me. "Here. As for a place to rest your head..."

"I can find a room, don't worry."

"Nah. You can use our back room. There's even a 'fresher in there." He leads me to said room. "Go get yourself cleaned up, Captain. I'll get the room ready."

The 'fresher has a real shower in it, so I set the spray to hot and powerful, and scrub myself down. The mud and muck soaked through my pants to my legs, and it feels good to get the caked material off. I do my best to rinse the dirt out of my leggings, socks, jacket, and shirt, then hang them to dry. My borrowed pants are scratchy and require a good deal of cinching from my belt, but the shirt is soft and worn, and pleasantly large on me. I step out into the room again, rubbing at my hair with a towel.

The room itself is rather small and narrow, but there's a small area for food prep in the corner. A miniature holo-projector sits opposite. There's just enough space for a couple of people to stay. Rendia Freight probably gets overnight guests every now and then. There are two cots sitting side-by-side on the near wall. They weren't there before.

"Why are there two cots?" I ask.

"Figured I'd stay here with you," Riggs says innocently.

"Riggs, I ain't that kinda girl."

He blushes furiously, from collar to forehead. "Don't mean it like that, Captain. Just don't want you to be alone if something happens."

"I don't need a babysitter," I reply.

"Look, if Rogun's thugs show up, wouldn't it be better if you had some backup?"

I shrug. "Guess not." I sit on one of the cots and run my hands along the hem of the shirt. "So my pants belong to someone no longer here, but who's shirt is it?"

"That would be..." he clears his throat and looks away, "mine."

I nod. "Nice of you to offer it. Thanks. I'll give it back to you. I'd wash it too if there was time."

"Don't worry about it." He gestures with his hand. "It's late, why don't we get some rest?"

I settle back on the cot and pull the blankets over me. They're soft, and warm, and comforting. They don't smell right, but the only place where the bedding smells right is my bunk on the ship. "Thanks for everything, Riggs."

"No problem, Captain," he replies.

I fall asleep the moment my eyes close.


	3. I Am NOT an Errand Runner

Morning on Ord Mantell seems slower than morning on other planets I've visited. Other places, the world would be alive and buzzing by the time I awake, people already rushing to work and school and appointments. Mantell seems to wake up slowly, stretching itself out before stumbling to the 'fresher, and then making a cup of caf. As a general habit, whenever I'm dirtside, I awake quickly and get my day started early, so I'm trying to make myself a cup of whatever blend Viidu stores in the little back room when Corso Riggs wakes up.

He makes one of those "I'm just waking up" noises and then mutters something I don't catch. I figure out the caf brewer and ask, "You want a cup?" I look at him when he doesn't answer quickly.

"Hmm?" He blinks. "Umm...yeah." I add more water. "You always awake this early?"

"Only when I'm planetside. When I'm in space, I'll sleep until my...until I feel like getting out of bed." _Blast, I almost told him about Pa._ The pain pricks at my heart and eyes, and my grip on the mug tightens.

"Easy there," Riggs' voice is closer than it was a minute ago. "The mug ain't gonna run away." I feel his hand pry it from mine. "Everything ok?"

I blink. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just gonna...get freshened up a bit."

Even though I'm still clean, I turn the shower on to another full-power blast. The water pounds against my face and mixes with the tears. Every moment of the past month (_has it really already been a month?_) has been filled with as strong a distraction as I could manage. I overhauled the _Shadow's _engine twice, cleaned every surface, did a complete systems sweep and backup, cleaned the ship's blaster turrets, read three new holonovels, got into a handful of fistfights (got kicked out of two bars because of them), and, at night, when Jol wasn't there to see me, downed at least third of a bottle of something strong or tried more bloody methods of releasing the emptiness. The water stings at the half-healed mark on my upper arm.

Jol searched for with every contact we had for something, anything, even something legitimate. Half of the contacts wouldn't deal with us, and the other half had nothing at the moment. Without work, and without access to our fathers' accounts, we were out to dry. When Kelsor finally came through with the contact info for Viidu, we were down to a nine-hundred credits (I had spent far too much on booze), the single bottle of good Correllian rum we had bought a year ago and hadn't touched, and a week's worth of instant meals.

I finally had work, but Jol couldn't go on. He had it all lined up to stay on planet as a field mechanic, but didn't mention it until we were settling the new cargo into the hold. After the ramp was pulled up and the airlock cycled, I sank to the floor and cried, the first time I had done so since we had left Balmorra in a rush. The ship was so silent after that; I only started the ship's engines to leave when the silence became so stifling the next day that I couldn't stand it. Hyperspace passed while I was in some sort of numbing void, and when the ship came out of lightspeed, I was Captain Valis instead of Inestra.

Captain Valis didn't have anyone to mourn, and she didn't have a reason to. She was a seasoned professional, everything that one could expect from a smuggler: hungry for riches, good alcohol and a fun time. Captain Valis could talk her way out of any situation; she possessed a silvertongue gilded in half-lies and hidden truths. Yesterday, between assuming the new persona, the loss of my ship and the requests from half of Ord's population, I almost became her entirely. But this morning, while I was still making mental connections, I became Inestra again, and Inestra is the opposite of Captain Valis.

I shut the water off and put on my clothes _and_ the persona of Captain Valis on again: confident almost to the point of arrogance, self-assured, and collected. There are no tears, because there are no emotions to deal with; I become bold, strong, and a force to be reckoned with. Yes, my armor is thicker than any that can be bought, but I can't afford a single chink in it. One bad move, and everyone will see me for the fraud I am, the lie I have no choice but to become.

"Hope you didn't let my caf get cold!" I call as I open the 'fresher door. At least Captain Valis and Inestra both agree that cold caf is horrid. I compose my features into a smile. The cloak of my assumed persona settles against me and I hope that it stays there.

"Don't worry Captain, it's still warm." He presses the mug into my hands. There's that smile again, and my mistake this morning fades and a tiny section of my universe briefly rights itself again. "So about breakfast...what do you want?"

"Other than caf? Let's see," I wrack my brain for the most ridiculous breakfast I can come up with. "Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns," I start, "macaroni, some cold chicken, green beans, some chocolate, and a pot of caf."

"Right..." He laughs, and I find myself laughing too, not just my outside identity, but _me_, Inestra Valis, daughter of Berk and Lara, the girl with a broken heart hidden deep inside.

For a split second, the world is right and my smile is real, and just a little part of my heart heals.

* * *

The conference room-slash-office is comfortably warm, but already full of sunny, natural light. Someone was thoughtful enough to put out some warm cereal for a breakfast, which I'm thankful for, since my stomach is making grumbling noises.

"Morning, Captain!" Viidu's already up and is enjoying what looks to be a second helping of breakfast. He was serious about the "eating like there's no tomorrow", I guess. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Good morning, Viidu," I reply. "I slept like a rock."

"She snores like a Gundark," Riggs teases.

"You snore like two Wookies," I tease back. "I had had an _exhausting _day, what's your excuse?" I grab a generous serving of the cereal.

"Excuse? I was blasting Seps and lifting heavy cargo while you were running around doing easy errands like finding bird books."

Viidu's smirking at the two of us when we finally sit down. "Alright, you two, that's enough. Captain, what do you say to an extra special job that only you could do?"

"Well, my schedule is pretty open, what is it?" I dump sweetener on the cereal.

"I need you to keep Rogun the Butcher off our backs. Syreena stalled him earlier, but it's not enough. We need to distract Rogun by giving him something he really wants—a canister of some special chemicals from a nearby village."

"Why does this sound suspicious?" I'm dubious, especially because "errand runner" is not on my business card. Or it wouldn't be if I had business cards. Maybe I should get business cards. Do smugglers use business cards?

"Because it is," Riggs cuts in. "The 'Big Boom Run' is blasted risky. I can see it making Rogun's day, but really, boss?"

"C'mon, Riggs, I'm positive I've been in worse situations." Like that time I was running interference while we smuggled two of a particularly vile Hutt's slaves out of his establishment. Hutt kitchens are _nasty_ business.

"You don't understand. People lose their arms and legs on this job, Captain. Heads too." Riggs glares at me.

"You think I haven't poked my head into danger a few times? Where do you think this comes from?" I gesture towards the scar on my chin. "Or this?" I use the hand not occupied with my spoon to lift the fringe from my forehead where a scar sits on my hairline. "I'll be fine." He doesn't look happy with my response. "So what would I be doing, if I chose to run this errand for you?" I leave a tiny amount of emphasis on "errand".

"There's a loopy scientist with a chemical that can supercharge artillery cannons—makes them do more damage."

"But it's less stable than a drunk savrip on a speeder bike. Handle it wrong, and suddenly you're little chunks of ex-captain."

_Glare any harder, Riggs, and your face'll get stuck that way._

"Sure it's tricky, but you've got the skill to get it here. Did I mention this run pays unbelievably well?"

Captain Valis should have credit signs in her eyes about now. "I'm on it." Riggs shakes his head.

"Fantastic. I won't even haggle down on your fee. That's how much I respect you." Viidu gestures with open arms. "Trymbo is the scientist's name. Got a place in Oradam village. I'll let him know you're coming."

Our other breakfast guest has finished eating, so he makes to leave. "See me before you make that run, Captain. We should talk."

Thankfully, he's already out the door before the color shows in my face.

"You and Corso seem to be getting along well," Viidu says in a neutral tone.

"He's a good guy," I say. "I can see why you keep him around." There's no way I'm letting Viidu know that I would love to steal him when I get my ship back. Of course, he probably wouldn't leave with me, even if I begged. Or threatened.

"Captain, for your sake and for his, I hope you find your ship." His voice is sad.

"Me too, for all our sakes."

The main floor of the warehouse is huge, and the towering piles of cargo make it even more difficult to find anyone. I'm not about to ask someone where Riggs is, so I fumble around for a while. The air inside the building is comfortably cool and dry (but not too dry), and I can already tell that the day is shaping up to be warm—unpleasantly so—and humid. I'm in no great rush to start this journey.

"Hey, you! Captain-whatsyourname! Corso is wondering where you are!" one of the workers shouts toward me and gestures with his thumb towards the front office.

Riggs is leaning against the door frame when I spot him. Emotion still clouds his eyes, but he seems less upset than he was earlier, thank the stars. He's got his little bits of piecemeal armor and the big blaster rifle strapped back on, and his arms are crossed over his chest.

"Riggs, you're not gonna convince me out of this."

"Captain, I'm not gonna try. But the Big Boom run got its name for a reason: it's no stroll on the beach. You'll need an edge to make it back alive." He reaches in his holster, pulls out a blaster, and holds it out towards me, hilt first. "This here's a SoroSuub SSK heavy blaster. It's cut for a quick draw and got a hair-trigger. I call it 'Flashy'. Flashy's the first blaster I ever owned, and I want you to have it."

His first blaster? Giving it to a complete stranger? And it's named? Who is this Corso Riggs? "I can't take this, Riggs. I've got a good blaster." I pat the holster on my thigh where it sits. Maybe it's a wee bit antique, and certainly not in the pristine condition that this one is in, but it's mine and it fits me and it's _mine_.

"I've seen that blaster in action, and let me assure you that Flashy is a smoother draw and does far more damage."

I flip the gun and make to return it to him. "I can't take your first blaster. But I'd be willing to take you along. I seem to remember you complaining about missing all the fun last night." I cock my hip and place my fist on it.

"I'd love to, Captain, but I can't. I've got work to do. Just take Flashy, please. I'll breathe a lot easier knowing you're ready for anything."

The tone in his voice makes me think of the way we used to talk to each other on the ship. "You got your blaster, sweetie?" Pa used to call every time I left the ship. Uncle Ze would ask if I was trying to give my father a heart-attack whenever I said "no, just dropping to the corner store". The friendly concern in Riggs' voice reminds me of my family and makes my next words a little difficult to say smoothly. "If it means that much to you, I'll _borrow_ it for a while."

"Good enough," he says with a chuckle. "Best of luck, Captain."

"You too, Riggs."

* * *

Outside the cool of the climate-controlled building, the day is already hot and the sun is doing its damndest to bleach the color out of everything while just adding more freckles to my face. Fort Garnik is bustling with activity, but none of the locals seem to mind the sun or the heat. I use my hand to shade my eyes and look at the map Viidu provided me with yesterday. Oradam Village is about two hours' hike to the northwest, provided I'm not waylaid or held up.

Of course, I'm about a third of the way there and protocol droid waylays me. When it mentions that it was trying to fix generators, I jump at the chance to play mechanic. Celestra is understandably frustrated, and her temper is a little short, but without my tool set, I'd be murderous. It dawns on me that I _am_ without my tool set, and I have every intent of killing the bastard who took it (and my ship) from me.

Once the tools are recovered, I kneel down next to the generator and help her fix it. "Your accent isn't local, how'd you wind up on Ord?" she asks as I twist a couple of wires together, thankful for the heavy leather gloves on my hands.

I'm not about to tell her the real story, so I make up a little something on the spot. "Y'know how the Separatists are threatening to blow this world up? I got called in to run some supplies to outlying villages." I even managed to get a little bit of truth in there. Sort of.

"A smuggler?"

"A professional supplies and matériel delivery expert, if you will. What about you?"

"Mechanical work for the Republic. If it breaks, I fix it. Everything from speeder bikes to droid parts. Unfortunately, I'm jury-rigging more and more these days." She shakes her head. "Good mechanics are getting harder and harder to come by. If the smuggling thing gets boring, we could use a hand like yours."

"I'm too attached to the stars to live planetside for long," I laugh. "Besides, my paycheck is better and I have more fun."

"More fun than getting shot at by Separatists, yelled at by pushy soldiers and never having the right supplies? I can't imagine it." She finishes tightening a blot with the spanner. "And there we go!" The generator whirrs back into life, and the sound is the best thing I've heard in a while. It sounds a little like _home_. I sniff. Allergies must be getting to me. This would be the first place I've had allergies.

"I'm going to be off, now. Nice to meet you, Captain..."  
"Valis. Nice to do business with you, Celestra."

* * *

The beach west of village is lovely, if not my kind of place. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming, but after my fiasco with wet clothes and shivering yesterday, I'm avoiding any and all bodies of water. The sand doesn't try to scald me through my boots, which is a blessing, but it also is blindingly white, and adds heat to the already warm air.

"The walk out is lovely," _Trymbo's wife said._ "The beach is so relaxing," s_he said. Between these blasted scavengers and the heat, I'm not sure if I'm even on the same beach._

The scavengers are determined to shoot anything that moves, and I've already got the blaster cannon supercharge-chemicals, so between the scavengers, the heat, and the unstable chemicals, I'm more paranoid than a spice addict in withdrawal. The sun is at midday, which gives me minimal shade for sneaking around in, and the roughly four hours of sleep I got last night are making my thoughts start to lag. Every hundred or so paces, I pull my binocs out of a jacket pocket and scout the terrain ahead. Once out of the scavengers' territory, the trails are almost empty. Empty or not, I can't afford to get jostled, much less shot at, so I take footpaths and side trails, even attempt to make my own way once (and get turned around). Yesterday, the errands were quick: go in, give the message, get the stuff, get out. I was out all day and well into the wee hours of the morning, but nothing was overly strenuous. Today, the hike is far longer on a straight path, and my cargo makes the hike take longer. I force myself to think of the credits I'll gain if I make it back alive. Provisions, a nice meal, maybe some upgrades await me on the other side of Fort Garnik's wall. More accurately, the provisioning and upgrades await once I've got the _Shadow_ back, but I can still get myself a nice meal and some drinks on this rock.

My chrono reads 1730 when I tip-toe back into Rendia Freight. Sneaking the chemicals past the Republic troops and security forces proved a bit of a trick, one involving climbing a hill, finding a drain pipe (thankfully, it's mostly dry), and removing the grate at the other side.

"Viidu, I'm back!" I call, voice sing-song, into his office. "And I got a present for you!"

"Woah, Captain, be careful." He gestures dramatically for me to stop. "I've got a storage unit over here to stabilize the canister so it doesn't blow." I move to place the canister in the unit. "Easy does it...easy...There we go..."

"From what I've been told, we'll still want to be real careful with it."

"Don't worry. This canister is safer than a Senator's daughter in a room full of Jedi.

"Getting Trymbo's chemicals saved out necks, Captain. Rogun will be too busy selling them to think about the blasters."

"Or so we hope," I interject. Without clear objective, my mind wanders back to the more pessimistic places it's been inhabiting in the past month.

"So what did you think of Trymbo?" Maybe Viidu sees some sign in my expression, or maybe he just wants to make small talk.

"You said 'loopy'." I finger-quote the word. "He's a few freighters short of a convoy. More than a few."

Viidu laughs. "I know what you mean. Every time I talk to him, he thinks I'm his great-grandfather who crashed into a black hole."

"He thought I was trying to escape marriage. Not sure if that's any better. Any luck slicing the data?" I pick up a piece of fruit and toss it from hand to hand.

"We're getting there, but the Separatists don't just possess several layers of security protocols, their encryption looks like it's double key based."

"Yuck. They must really want their personnel files kept private, sheesh." Double key encryption takes a long time to break, if you can break it at all. Every person with access has two keys. One key has an identity code and a reader program; the other key has an identity verification script and has the cryptokey for writing. The upside is that you need both keys to interact with the system, and every person has a unique pair of codes, so the system is very secure. In fact, the Holonet uses a variation on double key encryption for its encryption procedures. The downside is that you generally need two unique codes for every system you interact with, so it's easy to lose a key or use the wrong key on a system. I've seen data security professionals and professional slicers with a couple of storage boxes of keys, and it's not uncommon. The only way I know of to break the encryption, when you don't have either key, is to do a forceful raw data dump and then run the raw data trough a collection of encrypt/decrypt algorithms until the AI gets enough information to create a cryptokey.

"Do you have either cryptokey?" I ask. One cryptokey of the pair can speed things up significantly.

"We were able to, ahem, convince a Republic officer to give us a couple pairs of cryptokeys that were pulled from dead Separatists. We're still trying to break through the last layers of security protocols, and then we'll know if they're any good. Even if they're not," Viidu says, "if you have enough pairs of cryptokeys, you can find the root key generation numbers."

"I hadn't heard that." My education in slicing is pretty rudimentary, mostly how to forge a landing record, do an information dump, run an encrypt/decrypt program, fake credentials, and open a lockbox. Any tools I learned with are most likely outdated at this point.

"Let me know when you find it. If it starts taking a long while, I'll head back into Mannett Point and pull a couple of fresh key pairs." I take a bite of the fruit. It's ripe and properly tangy.

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Viidu says uncomfortably. "I really hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

**A/N: ** Some eagle-eyes will probably spot that I used some of Corso's dialogue with the male smuggler in the Flashy conversation. It just seemed to fit better in the story I'm trying to tell.

The concept of double-key encryption is shamelessly borrowed from the idea of public key/private key encryption, which is a real thing. It's almost impossible to break because it's a complicated thing, and (at least to me) it's pretty cool.

If anyone would like to see a little sketch I did of 'Nes and Corso, I've got one here: post/94192324621/as-promised-the-art-i-made-at-2am-last-night-my

Please let me know about chapter length. I feel like these are _really _long chapters (3,000+ works a pop), and I'm not sure if they should be broken up more.


	4. At Least I've Got That

**A/N: **Some mild language within this chapter. 'Nes is a smuggler, she doesn't do propriety very well, ok?

* * *

Viidu's people are good slicers, but not great ones. Three days have passed since I returned with Trymbo's chemicals and I'm still waiting for the location of Skavak. I'm twitchy, nervous, and, most of all, slipping back into my previous mental state. It's very easy to forget everything that happened over the past month when I'm focused on staying alive and finding some object or another, but in the emptiness of the past days, I've become tired, listless and depressed. My morning cup of caf is as much to wake me up as it is to remind me where I am and what I am. The worst part is that no one can know. I have to keep up the persona of Captain Valis every second I'm stuck on Ord Mantell. It means every night, when Riggs turns out the light and tucks in next to me, I have to wait until I can hear the sound of his soft snores before I can stop acting like someone I'm not. It means I sleep a lot more than necessary, simply because I can't get out of the bed. It means that I have to force my face into increasingly obviously fake smiles. It means that I'm getting closer and closer to a breaking point. I avoid everyone in the building, just because I'm not sure who is going to ask an uncomfortable question. Viidu was on to my "something is off"-ness days ago, and now it's becoming clearer that Riggs is catching on to my emotional state.  
I sit in a far corner of the warehouse and bounce a ball off the wall. Throw. _Thunk. Bounce. _Catch. Throw. _Thunk_. _Bounce_. Catch. I try to think about anything except the emptiness in my being. The harder I try not to think about it, the more it seems to occupy my thoughts.

"Hey, Captain."

_Speak of a Sith Lord, and one will appear,_ I think when Riggs' head shows around the edge of a crate. "Unless it's about the location of Skavak and my ship, I ain't in much of a mood for talk, Riggs," I say. Throw. _Thunk. _"I've been noticing." He shrugs. "What's wrong?"

_Bounce. _Catch. "Even if I told you, there's nothing that you can do about it." Throw. _Thunk. Bounce._ He reaches out and catches the ball in front of my hands. "Riggs! Give it back."

"Captain, talking about it can make it better. Is this about how you're missing your ship?" he asks.

"Give me the damn ball," I growl.

He tosses the ball towards the wall. _Thunk. Bounce_. I catch. "I get it, I really do. I know what it's like to lose everything."

"Really?" I say angrily. "You really think you know what it's like to lose everything?" I'm just short of screaming at him when I realize he does know. "Sorry," I say more calmly. "Viidu told me about your family. You do know something about loss."

"Yeah, I do. And I know that sulking doesn't help. There's a lot of good people here, we'd all be willing to lend an ear anytime you want."

I consider the offer."Can you stay a sec, Riggs?" I ask.

"I think the staff can manage without me for a bit." He sits on the floor next to me. "What's on your mind?"

My parents. My uncle. My cousin. My ship. The empty void in my heart. "I don't know where to begin," I manage after a long pause.

"Start anywhere you like, Captain."

_Captain._ The word echoes in my mind, a reminder of who I'm supposed to be. "That ship," I begin, "it was more than a ship, y'know?" Riggs nods. "The _Shadow_ was my life, my livelihood, my freedom, and my home. I don't know what to do with out her. There's no engine to fix, no computer to run, nothing I can do. And I miss her." I know what I actually miss will never be on the ship again, but I don't bother saying that. No one needs to know the whole story, and for Captain Valis, that's all of the story there is. Period. "I miss the hum of the engine, and the squeak in the pilot's chair that I've never fixed, and the glitchy way the computer buzzes, and my big bunk." When I was little, I was so small, and the bunk so low I could jump on the bed without hitting the ceiling; it's still so low that I can stand on it and not even come close to scraping my head, but the jumping days are passed. "The sheets here don't smell right, not that I don't appreciate them, and there's nothing to do but _wait_. I'm not a patient person, Riggs."

"I never would have gathered that," he says with a smirk. "Sounds like you need some activity."

"I could go for something loud, and rowdy. Maybe even risky," I say.

"Got just the thing." He stands and extends a hand. "How 'bout it, Captain?"

"What are we doing?"

"You'll see. Are you coming or not?"

I put my hand in his and he helps pull me to my feet. "Guess so."

* * *

As it turns out, dirt-born farm kids do have some idea of rowdy, loud, and risky. We return from Savrip Island giddy, with armor a little worse for the wear, and a nice deposit into my bank account. I'm feeling alive for the first time in over a month, though the giddy feeling probably has a little to do with the shots of whiskey I insisted we celebrate with immediately upon our return to Fort Garnik. The alcohol has lightly flushed his face, and in the moment, he's pretty darn handsome. The sober part of me tries to squelch the thought, but the tipsy part just wants to bask in it. _But it's not like you have time to do anything about it, _the sober part says.

_Shut up, _the giddy part retorts.

"Did you see me get that big one? It fell down right in front of me!"

"Yeah, got you soaked!"

"Speak for yourself, your hair's gonna make a puddle on the floor!"

"No it ain't!"

Syreena interrupts and stops our just-a-little-too-loud banter. "Viidu wants to see you, Captain."

"Is it about my-"

"Yes."

I grab Riggs' hand without a second thought, and run towards the office. Syreena follows.

"I've got good news and great news, Captain. We cracked the separatist computer files and found Skavak," the boss says before I've even made it through the door.

"Viidu, you promised you would get so excited. It isn't good for your heart," Syreena interjects.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but this is going to be great. Skavak won't even see us coming! Hah!"

I'm getting more impatient by the second. "Does Skavak still have my ship? Is she alright?"

Viidu's smile threatens to split his face. "Your ship and the blasters. Great, huh? We'll get everything he stole all at once. He's taking the blasters to the Separatist base. Those wackos built their headquarters into a old volcano. Crazy, huh?"

Riggs tenses behind me. "What else do you expect from a bunch of foaming at the mouth murderers? I wish that volcano would blow its top."

"Not with my ship in it, I hope."

"Skavak's delivering the blasters to a psycho named Dareg at the base tomorrow. You need to beat him there. When he shows up, you can ambush him, grab your ship and fly back here. Easy, huh?"

"Will do, Viidu, sir. Send the holonews, because you're going to see a real hero in action!" Yeah, those double shot of whiskey are definitely making everything seem a little funnier right now.

"Make it two heroes. Take Corso with you, Captain. The kid knows more about blasters and vibroblades than anybody I've ever met."

"I owe Skavak payback for Torchy, anyway. That was lower than low." His hands curl into fists.

"No more missing the fun, right?" He laughs with me.

"Then it's a deal. You two head for the Separatist base, kill Dareg and ambush Skavak when he shows up. I've got a bottle of Chandrilan brandy to open when you get back."

I grin. That's some good stuff. "Consider me signed on."

"I'd wish you two 'good luck', but I don't want to jinx anything. Just come back in one piece."

"Yes, sir!" I say. "Oh, and Viidu. Thanks for all the help. It really does mean a lot." I extend my hand.

"You're welcome, Captain." The larger man shakes it warmly.

While life seems to have recently dealt me a sabacc hand totalling 27, this afternoon has been something else. I can feel where the little corner of the emptiness fills. I can almost taste the Corellian rum and feel the vibration of the hyperdrive. My little excursion earlier with Riggs, followed by the celebratory shots, healed a little corner of my heart. Maybe it doesn't score a full +23, but it certainly comes in at +20, which just might win the game.

* * *

"You are guilty of crimes against the oppressed people of Ord Mantell. The sentence is death. Memorize our faces well, you criminal filth, for we are your righteous executioners. Do you have any last words, degenerate swine?"

"Save yourself the trouble, friend. Just surrender now."

"Hah! Let justice be served!"

The ensuing firefight is barely even worth the name, or the Tibanna gas used. The moment the conversation ends, I roll to cover, throwing a small det, and taking out one of Dareg's pesronal goons. A couple of quick rounds from Flashy and the other goes down, too. Riggs fires his rifle at point-blank range, taking out Dareg before the meaty man can even pull out and charge is weapon. The last separatist throws his hands up in a well-known, universal gesture.

"I surrender, I surrender! Please, I don't want to die. I know why you're here, and you're wasting your time."

"I'm here for Skavak and my starship. Now, _where are they_?" I'm not quite growling, but I'm not playing polite.

"Skavak is long gone. He left here hours ago." _Kriffing...kriff, kriff, I'm gonna kill that kriffing bastard _twice_!_ "Dareg was stupid to fight you. He got everyone killed when he should've just told you the truth. Skavak showed up a few hours ago to deliver the guns, but it was all a trick. He pretended to be on our side so he could steal some rusty, antique droid from Dareg."

"_Skavak came here for a droid?!_" I've lost the last vestige of polite. I've had it with this planet, with my missing ship, and most of all, with Skavak. I'm shouting loud enough for half the base to hear me.

"Some worthless pile of scrap that'd been in Dareg's family for generations. It was ancient—practically useless—but Skavak grabbed it like some big treasure and blasted his way out. He left in your ship. I don't know where he went, but I can guess who does. Skavak has a girl at Fort Garnik named Syreena."

And that would be the sound of the other boot dropping. I exchange a glance with Riggs. "Are you joshing me?" I never would have believed that the whatever it was that I didn't like about her was something as ridiculous as this.

"It's true! Dareg talked to her on the holo all the time with messages for Skavak. She was our main contact. It was Syreena who warned us you were coming. If you want to find out where Skavak went, Syreena's the one who knows." The Separatist holds his right shoulder tightly, but I don't see blood. "Please, just let me go. I have a family back on the mainland. Please!"

Riggs moves from behind me, ice and fire in his eyes and voice. "Separatist scum killed my family, and I promised myself I'd bury every last one of you." He raises his blaster pistol to the man's head.

"I-I've only been here a few months. I didn't kill anyone's family. I only ever followed orders." The man voice is high-pitched, and pleading.

"Then I order you to die." The ice in his voice is chilling me through to my bones. He pulls the trigger back and-

"Riggs, no!" I shout.

"Captain, this isn't up to you."

I lay my hand on top of his pistol, trying to force the barrel downward. I look him straight in the eye, trying not to flinch. "Look at him. He's terrified and scared. He probably wasn't even doing this for the cause, he was doing it for his family. He needed a job, and this was one that paid."

"That has nothing to do with it. Every one of these motherless scum deserves death. I can't just let him go home and pretend like nothing ever happened!" He's shouting back at me, and his eyes meet mine steadily, still burning.

"Then get him to work for the Republic. He's got knowledge, and he's got sense. Please, let him go." I'm the one pleading now. "Is this really who you want to be?"

"_Please_. I swear to you I'll never serve a man like Dareg again. I'll just go home and take care of my family."

"Get out of here before I change my mind," Riggs snaps.

"Thank you," the man says, looking at me.

"You heard the man. Go!" I can't take this any longer. Everything is going sideways and upside down and the tears are stinging at my eyes. At least they're tears of rage. Rage, I figure, is better than the numbness. Rage, in fact, is good. I will focus on this rage until I get my ship back. My rage will make me strong enough to get through this.

"C'mon, Captain. We need to have a little heart-to-heart with Syreena."

We pick up a rented speeder at the 'Pub base outside the volcano. Riggs is tighter than an strung bow when I climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. "Ready?" he asks over the hum of the repulsorlifts. I nod since my throat is tight with rage and unshed tears. Then we're off.

The landscape flies by in a blur. The wind stings at my face, so I bury it against the neck of my driver. I couple of tears leak out of my eyes and dampen his collar. If it weren't for Rogun, part of me would be saying that I should just settle here and start a new life, like Jol did. Ord isn't horrible in and of itself, Viidu's a nice guy, his people are good. _And warm._ At least one of 'em is, anyway. And that one is also good at helping the universe right itself. Syreena's a skank, but we'll take care of that in a moment. I've lost everything I have ever held dear, so I might as well start anew.

Of course that idea is irrelevant, and that line of thinking will only make me feel worse. I run next to Riggs all the way up to the second-floor office. That's when we hear it: Syreena's voice, followed by another voice that I hate even more. I don't even bother to do the polite thing and wait outside the door. I waltz right in.

"Too bad I missed the party," I say as Syreena flicks the holocom off.

"Captain... I didn't see you come in. It's wonderful to see you're still alive."

"Skip the crap, Syreena. I heard everything."

"No use in pretending then. Look, I know things that can help you. Skavak used me just like he did everyone else—that man could charm the armor off a Mandalorian." I doubt it. "Rogun the Butcher's bounty hunters are on their way right now. We don't want to be here when they arrive.

"Skavak took your ship and the guns to Coruscant. If you go now, he won't know you're coming for him," she continues.

"How do I get all the way to Coruscant when _you helped him steal my ship?_" I'm growling again, and I don't care.

"You don't need your own starship to leave Ord Mantell—not anymore. The separatists are retreating from this island, thanks to you, and the Republic just reopened the shuttle port. I'll give you a shuttle pass to Coruscant if you let me disappear. Do we have a deal?" her voice is full of that same overly smooth sweet quality that made me distrust her from the first.

"No. I need something for my efforts. You owe me, you little bitch. I'm of half a mind to kill you," I snap. I should just kill her. It would make things easier, but I'm so emotionally exhausted I'm not sure I could aim straight.

"Glad I always have some cash on hand." She hands me a small packet. "That should help cover things."

"Good enough. You really should get your ass out of here before I change my mind about killing you."

"Right. Then, I'll be on my way." She walks away quickly.

"Glad that ended peacefully," Riggs says. "I'm not one to hurt women."

The tension leaves my body and I collapse into a seat at the table. "It's not like I get a kick out of hurting people."

"Only the really bad ones do, Captain. I'm not letting her off for killing Viidu, though. Every employer in the galaxy is going to know about her. Poor guy. I wish he could hear what we did—would've put a smile on his face." He stands next to me and rests an hand on my shoulder. "I wish I could give you time, but it's not healthy for us to stick around. I believed what Syreena said about bounty hunters coming, and we don't know how long Skavak will stay on Coruscant, either. Let's hop a shuttle and catch him while we can."

"Wait a second, 'we'? You're planning on tagging along?" I can't keep the little bit of happiness out of my voice.

"I'm not bailing on you now, Captain. Besides, my Torchy still needs rescuing. Viidu left me some stuff. I expect he'd want me to share it with you."

I remember the rush I'd left in after Pa died. No use making the same mistakes twice."Alright then, grab it. Grab whatever rations and credits you can find. You got some luggage anywhere?"

He nods and we head to the back room, stopping for a sealing crate with handles. I throw whatever is in the room, and looks useful, into the crate. Riggs returns with some stuff from his locker, mostly weapons cases, though I see a couple of spare outfits and a box of protein bars mixed in. He stores the weapons and I load up the crate. "Credits?"

"Right here, Captain." He pats his front pockets. "There's also a bag of credsticks in...well, one of the cases."

We're out the door of the warehouse in a flash, but we pause outside about a block away and look at the building one last time. I see the emotion in his eyes and reach for his shoulder. "Riggs, we'll be ok. Trust me."

"It ain't that, it's just...there goes everything again."

"Not everything," I say and meet his chocolate colored eyes. "We've got each other."

He chuckles dryly. "Guess that's true."

And it is true. Just about all we've got in the entire upside-down galaxy is each other. For the moment, just Corso Riggs is good enough for me; maybe I'll smile a little bit more and cry a little bit less."C'mon."

Of course, there are bounty hunters waiting for us in the spaceport, and neither of them appreciate my humor when I tell them that I only fly first class, with little drinks with paper umbrellas and stewards in tight uniforms. The Mon Cal falls quickly, but before I can wonder if this is the best Rogun can send after us, the Kel Dor fires a shot that hits my blaster hand. I can't hold back the scream of pain and drop Flashy. Riggs let's loose a battlecry, and fires madly at my attacker. While he's distracted, I grab for the pistol and aim a strong kick into his more sensitive reasons. I sprint sideways, tossing a det and firing as best I can with my left hand. I aim towards the floor so that I minimize the chance Riggs'll get hit by a stray bolt. He finishes the Kel Dor off with a well-aimed shot to the back of his head.

He's next to me in a split second, helping my fumble-fingered left hand open the medpac and finds the kolto. "Look at you, dropping Flashy. What if she'd gotten beat up?" He smiles at me while pressing the adhesive edges of the bandage in place. "You gotta take better care of her, Captain." He closes the medpac and gives me a hand up. My right hand is going to be useless for a while.

The next shuttle is already boarding, so we waltz right up to the loading ramp.

Credits, check. Whatever supplies we could wrangle, check. Shuttle off planet, check. "Let's go, Captain." He reaches his hand towards me and I take it.

The one person in the universe who helps keep it from tipping? Check.


End file.
